


Word Doodles :: Destiny 1 & 2

by CoffeeCats



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Fic Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 06:15:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26847280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeCats/pseuds/CoffeeCats
Summary: A collection of little fics from Destiny. The main fic's rating will match the highest applicable rating of one of the chapter fics, and to avoid a wall of character tags, characters won't be tagged on the main fic. Chapter notes will contain the list of involved characters and any applicable warnings.
Kudos: 5





	1. i had a name but they took it from me || the speaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We can have a little introspective Speaker, as a treat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a Lord Huron prompt game on Tumblr.
> 
> Characters :: The Speaker  
> Warnings :: None

The cool evening air of the Tower breezed through his open windows, carrying with it the waning sounds of activity in the courtyards and city beyond. This had always been his favorite time of day--when the hustle and bustle of the day properly began to wind down, but before the stillness of the night fully settled in. He gently pulled off his mask, running a hand through his hair and taking a deep breath of the fresh air.

One of the ghosts that tended to keep him company drifted closer, her presence betrayed by the gentle whirring and clicking of her shell. Even before she spoke, he knew exactly which ghost it was and what she was about to say.

“Eventually you’ll need to look for another replacement.”

She, of all the ghosts, was his oldest and most consistent companion; least prone to wandering, most in-tune with his mannerisms, most determined to remind him of his mortality. They’d had this conversation countless times before and most frequently after Osiris had… left. The ghost meant well, of course, and he knew she was right--eventually his life would run its course and the Traveler would be without a Speaker, unless he found a new apprentice. Generally he found some way to dodge the conversation. To put an end to it without giving life to the reason for his hesitation.

One hand delicately traced the edges of his mask, fingers running across the sharp angles that had defined his entire existence for as long as he could remember.

“I had a name, once,” he said. The words hung in the air, free for the first time, and suddenly the rest were eager to follow. “It’s been too long to remember how it happened or when it was lost, but I know I had one. It was  _ mine _ …”

The ghost drifted closer, tines twitching in that uniquely uncertain way. He paused, sighed, gestured to the mask in his hand.

“This takes that from you. It takes  _ everything _ from you,” he said. “I hold no regrets, no remorse, but there is… a longing, to remember who I was before this. A guardian would shoulder this burden for eternity; a mortal would shoulder this and the burden of passing the torch…”

His voice dropped to barely a whisper. 

“I could never wish this on another.”


	2. rest awhile, they're coming for you || jaksis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little glimpse of pre-guardian Jaksis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a Lord Huron prompt game on tumblr.
> 
> Characters :: Jaksis (Eliksni OC)  
> Warnings :: None

Climbing with only three arms proved to be far more frustrating and painful than he had expected, but he needed a moment of respite and the tangled mess of concrete and rebar looked like it would be difficult for any of the city’s defenders to reach. Concrete crumbled from under both right hands and he swore violently as he scrambled up over the edge of the support, hoping the sounds of combat in the distance would be enough to mask the sound of the falling rubble. Tucking into a gap between the bridge above and the support below, he let out a heavy breath. He could almost pretend this was a safe den, but the city’s patrols were still hunting him, he knew, and he wouldn’t be able to remain hidden for long.

Silently, he cursed the entire House of Wolves. Not a single one of them had shown and the rest of the Houses had had to push forward with the attack without them. The battle had been utter hell, hopefully more devastating for that damned city than it had been for them, but it seemed unlikely. Certainly by the time the lightbearers were done hunting the fractured and scattered eliksni forces, the devastation would be heaviest on them.

Jaksis spent a moment imagining what he would do to the Wolves before turning his attention to his arm. It was definitely broken, and likely beyond healing or repair. His jaws clicked in irritation as he realized it would probably have to be docked. And if no one else made it out of this battleground, he would have to do it himself. Just one more thing to blame on the Wolves…

City aircraft roared by overhead, snapping him from his thoughts. He waited for them to pass before risking a glance out of his hiding spot. A sudden loud shot rang out in the distance as a still-standing walker took off the wing of one of the small craft, sending it spiraling out of the sky. The second craft wheeled around in the direction the shot had come from, clearly intending to deal with the walker and whatever eliksni were clustered around it. He glanced down and back the way he’d come–no immediate sign of the patrols. Dusk was rapidly approaching and he thought perhaps this was the best time to make his move. The walker had presented itself as a very large and obvious target and would likely draw a lot of attention, and the uncertain light of the hazy evening would likely provide him some cover.

A moment was taken to secure his broken arm, another to wish destruction upon the Wolves, and then his rest was over and he was on the move again.


	3. say goodbye to who i was || déjà

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Déjà leaves her old life behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a Lord Huron prompt game on tumblr.
> 
> Characters :: Déjà (Hunter OC)  
> Warnings :: None

“Are you sure about this?”

The ghost’s soft voice cut through the midnight silence. It held no judgement, no indication of what it thought was right or wrong, it merely made space for confirmation. For the hunter to give voice to what they both knew she was doing. To make it real.

The hunter hesitated, one hand poised over a datapad. The screen, equally impassive, blinked idly in the darkened room. Her own words shined up at her from the screen and she scanned them again as she considered the question.

Was she sure about this?

… No, she thought. She wasn’t sure. She would never _be_ sure. But she thought perhaps this would be less painful than the alternative.

She loved her fireteam, believed she had always loved them, and knew she would continue to love them as long as she could remember them. And they, in turn, loved her. But with each death of hers she thought she could see something in their eyes–a little more pain, a little more frustration, a little more sadness. It always took her time to relearn why. To relearn who _they_ were, who _she_ was, what they were and what they did and why. To relearn what the expressions on their faces meant, how to read the words at hid behind their voices.

It was frustrating. For her… or for them. For both, perhaps. And that was the crux of it, wasn’t it? To gamble on which would hurt less–an eternity of that pain, or a moment of this.

_–remember me or forget me, just don’t try to find me._

The datapad blinked gently again.

“No,” she said, in answer to her ghost.

The message was finished, the datapad carefully placed in plain sight. The newly emptied room was given one more glance before she grabbed her gear and left without a second thought.


	4. a hunter and a warlord || lox, déjà

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lox encounters a very strange hunter in the old American wilderness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters :: Lox (Hunter OC), Déjà (Hunter OC)  
> Warnings :: None

“You lost?”

Lox tipped her head back and peered up at the exo crouched in the branches of a massive tree. The details of her form were lost in the mottled shadows, but pink lights stared back at her and a glimmer of blue revealed a vine-covered ghost hovering in a cluster of leaves.

“Just wandering,” she replied after a moment. It wasn’t the whole truth, but it wasn’t a lie either.

The exo tilted her head before dropping out of the tree, landing lightly on the dusty ground in front of Lox. Her armor and cloak were decorated in carefully placed flowers and plants, some of which Monday highlighted as poisonous, and it was difficult to tell if her plating was naturally a dusty shade of brown or if she’d picked up a coating of dirt in her travels and had decided to leave it. She peered at Lox for a moment.

“Ah… the Dare’s up again, isn’t it?”

That caught Lox off-guard and the exo’s lights sparkled in amusement at her surprise.

“Ain’t the first time,” she said. “Usually the only time I see so many other Hunters pass through here.”

“Oh…” Lox said. “Well, yeah, it is. It was uh-”

The exo cut her off with a wave of her hand. “Don’t need or want the details. Won’t tell anyone you’re out here neither.”

“Fair enough.”

A beat of silence passed.

“Name’s Déjà, by the way.” She gestured over her shoulder at the hiding ghost. “That’s Vu.”

“Lox. And Monday.”

Déjà’s plating ticked up into a smile and she nodded. “Vu’ll give you our comms and a rough map of our usual stomping grounds - if you need help, just holler. And if you’re lookin’ for adventure, I’ve tagged a few caves with some… interesting contents.”

Lox gave a quiet laugh. “Y’know I think we could use a little adventure.”

Déjà winked. “Thought you might. Good luck, stay sharp.” She tapped a finger to her forehead before scrambling back up into her tree and disappearing into the foliage with far less noise than she should have made.

Lox watched her go with bemusement. “You think we could manage to live out in the wilds?”

“I think you’d get bored after two days of it,” Monday said.

“You’re probably right.”

“Of course I am.”

Lox flicked one of Monday’s tines and he gave an indignant ruffle. 

“C’mon. Let’s go find one of those “interesting” caves.”


	5. and the truth is stranger than my own worst dreams || lox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lox experiences stasis for the first time. [minor spoilers for Beyond Light]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a Lord Huron prompt game on Tumblr
> 
> Characters :: Lox  
> Warnings :: None

The air hummed and rumbled and it was impossible to know if it was from the angular black shape in front of her, the vex construct overhead, or her own heart hammering away in her ears.

Something thrummed through the air. A force she couldn’t hear, but could feel pulsing through every fiber of her being, racing along her nerves, biting at the edges of her mind and at the edges of her light. The attunement had been one thing--feeling the beckoning of the darkness running through the floor and the walls as it had waited for her to take that first step with her splinter. But now, here, in this icy nexus it was something new. Different feelings in the air, different feelings from the Darkness, from her ghost, from herself.

_Commune_.

She reached out and it reached back.

Stasis surged through her and her startled cry was cut off as she felt her feet leave the ground, felt her limbs jerk about of their own volition. More distracting, more distressing, was the feeling. She had expected a sharp, biting cold--an amplification of the chill of the void, or perhaps simply a mirror of the ice and wind above--but this wasn’t just cold. It was a freezing shock that blazed the way for a sickly, overwhelming heat. It was a war within her own body.

She felt frozen. She kicked and thrashed as best she could and heard something shatter around her. The ground caught her unkindly and she slipped and staggered on the ice when she landed, stumbling back and trying to blink the shadows from her eyes.

The lines between her emotions and those of her ghost bled together and she wasn’t sure which of them was confused and which of them was scared.

Something else nudged her attention to the right, to the telltale haze of incoming vex. Needles of frigid heat surged through her body again and coalesced into a pair of weapons. 

_Fight_.

Joy seeped through the clouded emotions in her mind and she grinned as she launched herself into the fray.


	6. europa, by way of titan || jaksis, rigel-7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i had a thought that maybe rigel & jak were helping eliksni get from house salvation to house light and i just wanted it to happen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters :: Jaksis, Rigel-7  
> Warnings :: None

“What are you _doing?_ ” Jaksis hissed.

“What does it _look_ like I’m doing?” Rigel snapped back, in the middle of unceremoniously ripping a cover panel off the underside of the skiff’s control bank. “I’m stealing this skiff so we can _leave_. This moon is cursed and I don’t want to be here any longer than we have to and I don’t see any City ships nearby, _so..._ ”

He let the end of the sentence hang and it was punctuated with a resounding clang as the large sheet of metal finally fell free. Jaksis huffed and rolled his shoulders, trying to push his own irritation back down. An argument wouldn’t help anyone right now, as much as he felt like biting back at Rigel’s short temper with his own.

First the pyramid ships over Titan, then the gravity well damaging their engines and sending them spiraling toward Europa. Another ship crashed, lost and buried in the side of some glacier now, on this moon crawling with little pyramids and tendrils of darkness and some new eliksni house. Even before they’d started picking up radio chatter between the local Kell and Variks and other unknown guardians, Rigel had been agitated. Jaksis would’ve thought jumpy and nervous if those were words that had ever fit the exo. He didn’t know _why_ Rigel was in that mood and Rigel refused to explain and it made putting up with, and trying to escape from, the constant white-out snowstorms positively miserable.

And now here they were. Apparently stealing a skiff right out from under the nose of its Kell. There was a not insignificant chance they were going to get killed before they even got it out of the docking area.

Jaksis clicked his jaws in irritation. “Why are you in such a hurry? We could have asked one of the other guardians for assistance, or perhaps this Variks rather than _risk the ire of an entire House and Kell_.”

A sharp snap of electricity echoed from under the console, followed immediately by an equally sharp obscenity and the loud thunk of a fist impacting metal. It was inelegant and undignified, but the ship started to wake. Controls and displays flickered to life and the hull resonated with a dull hum as the engines started freeing themselves of ice and snow.

Rigel crawled out from under the console, shaking one hand and flexing his fingers. “ _Because_ ,” he began, infuriatingly slowly, as though Jaksis should have already known the answer, “I don’t want anything to know I’m here.”

Jaksis blinked, expecting more of an explanation, and then rumbled in annoyance when nothing more was given. He was about to demand more of an explanation when Sarys manifested and cut him off.

“Radio chatter between Variks and Misraaks. They’re looking to evacuate the eliksni who wish to leave House Salvation and give them a home with Light,” she said, addressing both of them.

Jaksis blinked in surprise, though he quickly grasped what she intended and his irritation was replaced by joy at the opportunity to help. Rigel made a confused gesture with his hands.

“So?” he said.

“ _So_ ,” she said, mocking his tone from a moment earlier. “If we’re already stealing a skiff and leaving...”

Rigel hissed quietly in that way that he did when he was trying to find a way out of doing something he knew he should.

“We _are_ going to help,” Jaksis said, trying his best to channel the authority and determination of a Captain.

Rigel’s lights flashed in a chaotic and baffling array and an unpleasant metallic grinding noise escaped him before he threw his hands into the air. “Fine! Fine, why not. We’ll just well and truly insert ourselves into this little war, then. Make ourselves a big ol’ target.”

“Can’t you just use the snowstorm for cover?”

He thought he might have heard Rigel quietly mimicking his question as he jabbed at the skiff’s controls with more force than was strictly necessary. “Of course I’m going to use the snowstorm as cover, but _I’m_ not going to like it and this _ship’s_ not going to like it and I _am_ going to complain about it.”

That much was expected. 

“Sarys, tell Variks we’ve got a skiff and can help. Find out where we need to go.”

She bobbed gently in the air before disappearing in her characteristic shower of sparks.

“And tell him we’re not waiting around!” Rigel shouted as the skiff lurched out of its dock and into the air.


	7. the hunt || zenith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i can have a little hive oc, as a treat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters :: Zenith  
> Warnings :: Implied character death (she's a hungry hive, y'know?)

Subtle ripples of Light in the dark were the vibrations in the spider’s web. The bait had been taken and she grinned, a low rumble of anticipation echoing through the dusty halls.

The hunt was on.

Quickly, quietly, she moved. Keeping eyes on the Light, keeping eyes on her thrall, watching through them as the Light crept by, thinking itself alone in the tunnels. It felt small, merely a morsel compared to meals in the past, but it would be enough for now.

Onward the Light ran, following a faint, plaintive cry for help. The desperate plea of a soul lost in the dark. 

An irresistible lure.

Shortcuts carried her around the main junctions of the halls above, moving in parallel with the Light, overtaking it, following her own secret routes to where they would inevitably meet.

A Light this small would generally hesitate when it left the areas of visible light, retreating, waiting, calling for help, but this one plowed on undeterred. Her worm squirmed with hunger and the sensation fed into her own. This would be a good hunt indeed.

A yawning, cavernous room opened in the dark and she chose her spot and waited. Her own eyes were shrouded, heavily masked to prevent their glow from spoiling her ambush early.

The Light crept through the door, cautious now that it was so close to the source of the trail it followed. It reached out, cautious tendrils seeking another spark, seeking the one it intended to rescue, and finding her essence instead. She made no attempt to mask herself, relishing in the Light’s fear as it realized what had happened.

Wormspore and ancient dust clouded the space as she lunged, her massive blade carving a wide arc toward the Light. Void flared, manifesting in a shield that parried her blade up and away from its target, though the force of the impact sent it sprawling into the dust. As it regained its footing, she reassessed.

Oh, this Light had been clever, muffling its own power to make itself less of a target as it tread deeper. It was no stranger to this ship and her kind. She howled in delight and the echoes of her joy and challenge reverberated through the space. The Light howled its own challenge and rushed to meet her as she lunged forward once more.

This would be a very good hunt indeed.


	8. battle for the floor || zenith, archivist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> zenith wants a pitfall; a wizard wants her to stop making swiss cheese out of the dreadnaught

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters :: Zenith, Unnamed Archivist Wizard  
> Warnings :: None

Zenith would never admit it, but the sound of a portal tearing open behind her head immediately followed by the outraged screeching of a wizard nearly made her drop her sword.

“ _STOP THAT!_ ”

With a low snarl, Zenith side-eyed the wizard. The aura read as one of Oryx’s brood but higher-rank and deeply powerful in some sort of magic, though she would be significantly weaker in raw force. Zenith hissed in displeasure as she realized she might actually be out-matched and might need to rethink her plan to swat the wizard out of the air. The wizard bristled in response to the aggression and magic glowed ready at the edges of her claws.

With great difficulty, Zenith pushed her aggression down and turned back to her current project.

“Stop _what?_ ” she asked, biting irritation deep into the words. The end of the question was mostly lost in the metallic scream of the floor plating as she wrenched her blade free from the new gash she had carved.

“Quit slicing holes in the ship, you imbecile!” The wizard drifted toward the damage in the floor, not quite touching it, and waved a hand over the mess, coaxing the ship to reveal the extent of the damage.

Zenith scowled and made a sharp gesture toward the floor. “The Sunless Cell is below here, busy being useless and empty, and I want a hunting pit.”

The wizard flashed a look at Zenith that would make any lesser Hive flee. Zenith, unfortunately, was no such creature; she leaned an arm on her sword, pushing the tip of the blade back down into the floor. The floor keened quietly and the wizard drew herself up to her full height, bone armor and spines flaring out in a threat.

“Just because _you_ have decided to ignore the remaining tithe lines does not mean you have free reign to go around mindlessly carving your way through the ship. There are important knowledge conduits running through the structure here and I will not have them destroyed by some bored _child_.”

Between the insult and the insinuation that her carving was anything less than intentional, Zenith forgot her earlier decision to not pick a fight with the wizard, brandishing her sword in her direction. “If the ship doesn’t want traps cut into it, it’s more than welcome to wake up and stop me. Until then–”

She swung the blade back at the floor with all the force she could muster. Whether or not it hit home was debatable as she suddenly became aware of very little other than the deafening howl of ascendant magic and a feeling akin to having her brain turned inside out. A heavy impact caused some plating on her back to buckle and she thought for a moment that gravity might be pointing in the wrong direction before she lurched sideways into something broad and flat.

The first muddy sense to return was an all over ache, rapidly followed by the white-hot needles of irritation from her worm and her own confused surprise at still being alive. It took more than a few moments to sort out up from down and figure out what had happened and she realized she hadn’t been hit but rather hurled across the room. An artfully sculpted support column had caught her mid-flight and cracked her armor, perhaps as its own revenge for the impact shattering off several of the thin, decorative fins.

Zenith hauled herself to her feet, looking around for either her sword or the wizard and finding neither. There were, however, several sets of eyes peering out from shadows on the edges of the room, presumably belonging to some acolytes hoping to see a full-on brawl. Now doubly irritated, she stalked back toward the contentious spot of flooring, seeing first an unsettling haze of magic glowing up from new runes etched into the floor and then her sword laying where it had apparently been flung in a different direction. Skirting the edge of the runes, she snatched up her sword and crouched to get a better look at the magic. 

It made absolutely no sense to her.

She also knew she didn’t want to be the first to touch it.

One of the acolytes wasn’t fast enough in hiding again when she swept her gaze toward their hiding place again and she barked an order at it to come closer. It did so, albeit slowly and uncertainly.

“Step on that,” she said, pointing at the circle of faintly glowing runes. The acolyte hesitated and she added, “ _Step on it, or I’ll eat you._ ”

That spurred it into action and it dashed forward onto the runes with a quiet yelp.

The glow of the magic flared brighter for a moment…

And nothing happened.

Zenith rumbled in annoyance again and the acolyte scattered from view.

She poked at the runes with her sword. Nothing.

Stepped slowly onto them. Nothing.

Kicked a foot across one of the runes. Still nothing.

She stepped back out of the circle and paused, twirling the giant sword in one hand before coming to a decision and bringing it down in a powerful overhead swing. Before it could reach the scarred floor the blade slammed into a shimmering field of magic that absorbed the force of the blow and cast it back at its attacker. 

For the second time that day, Zenith found herself flying through the air.

For the second time that day, she was sent crashing into the floor.

_So this was how it was going to be._


	9. field trip to the moon || zenith, archivist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i love my dumb, antagonistic hive ocs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters :: Zenith, Archivist Wizard  
> Warnings :: None

“You. Come with me.”

Zenith didn’t even turn to look at who had spoken, boredly inspecting the chitin plating on her fingers instead. She knew the voice, knew exactly which prickly wizard it belonged to, and suspected she wanted nothing to do with it.

“No” was what she wanted to say, but “Why?” was the word that escaped.

There was silence a moment too long for her liking and she carefully shifted to look at the wizard, who had fully bristled. For perhaps the first time in her life, Zenith was genuinely unsure as to why. Usually that reaction was caused by outright insubordination, intentional needling, or a swinging a sword directly at the other party; not a one-word question.

The wizard somehow bristled even further and bit out a very terse “ _Because_ ,” that shattered the uncomfortable silence perhaps a bit louder than even she had expected.

“Because,” she repeated, with less volume and more disgust, “you… are…” Here she paused and hissed as though she was in a tremendous amount of pain. “I _will not_ say this again, but because you are… _competent_.”

Zenith blinked, uncomprehending for a moment. The final word had been spat out with such hatred it registered as an insult and it took her brain a second to find the proper definition, though it refused to reconcile the discrepancy.

The wizard huffed, somewhere between impatient and irritated. “There is information in the wreckage of Crota’s temple that I wish to retrieve and I need _you_ to kill anything that gets in the way.”

That got Zenith’s attention and she immediately perked up, thrilled to have such a loose and tantalizingly destructive directive. Just as quickly she paused, viewing the wizard through newly narrowed eyes as a thought occurred to her. “You’re not just going to ditch me there, are you?”

“… I haven’t decided yet.”


End file.
